


Left to Find

by RainOfFire



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse, Slow Burn, but eventual friends and hopefully more, but he has some redeeming qualities, don't expect wonderful writing, mostly daryl focused, not sure where this will go, set after the group leave the overrun barn in s2, shane can be an asshole, since they don't really see eye to eye right now lol, they fight and argue a lot, won't see actual daryl/shane pairing for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainOfFire/pseuds/RainOfFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the finale of season 2, Daryl hears someone scream while he watches the barn burn to ashes. It's actually Shane - not Carol- and both of them are left behind by the group to find their own way about this apocalyptic world. </p><p>With only each other as company they are forced to get to know one another and try get past their mutual dislike.</p><p>~It's gonna be a slow ride~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another random story! I respect every fanfic writer in the world it's so difficult (for me anyway) to try express my visual ideas into words! As I've mentioned in the tags I don't really know where this story will go or how long it's gonna be but I'm just going with the flow. Hopefully my writing/grammar somewhat improves as the story progresses but i'm not holding my breath.

It had been seventeen days. Seventeen long days. He remembers watching the flames engulf the barn, how the wild fire lit up the black sky. After the roaring of engines and the haunting screams crawled to a stop, watching the red glow of the flames spark up into the sky Daryl seemed at peace for a minute. Everyone had scattered their separate ways and knowing they would most likely meet up at the highway they got stuck on, this was a chance for Daryl to go his own way. Rely on only himself and not get tangled up in this group’s twisted affairs. It was tiresome being thrown into other people’s problems. He wasn’t no agony aunt. When he thinks about it, when Sophia came out the barn as a walker that was the perfect time to quietly slip away and do his own thing. The rest wouldn’t miss him and he could go find where his brother was.

Sat on his motorcycle the only sounds he could hear were the distant crackle of fire and the low groaning of walkers. He watched them one by one walk into the flames setting themselves alight into beams of red and orange. It was an extraordinary sight and despite the mayhem that just occurred moment before, the scene mesmerised him. Suddenly a loud yell splits the peaceful air in two. Daryl doesn’t know who the yell came from but he quickly turns on the engines and drives.

Now, a part of him wishes he ignored the sound and drove the opposite direction but hindsight is a wonderful thing. He doesn’t know how long they had been walking through the empty winding roads until the figure next to him lets out an exaggerated sigh and spits “Seventeen days we’ve been dragging our asses and haven’t found shit. Seventeen fuckin’ days!” Daryl just grunts in response. He’s too tired to talk and with only the few quick showers of rain they’ve relied on his throat is scratchy from being dried up. 

He feels a hand on his arm halting him to a stop. He glances over at Shane staring at him. 

“Daryl, you’re supposed to be the tracker! What we doin’? We just gonna walk until our legs give up on us and one of those freaks tear us apart?” Shane shifts from one foot to the other staring expectantly at Daryl. 

Daryl shrugs the hand off him and grunts. He’s heard this same line every single day. Truth is, Daryl doesn’t know what he’s doing. The others never came back to the highway which just left him and Shane to make their own path. They’ve been walking non-stop in the hope to find some sort of shelter but to no avail. And seventeen days is a long time to be stuck side by side with a guy you don’t particularly like. Shane is just someone Daryl does not gel with even before the world went to shit. He’s loud and brash and in your face all the time – a bit like Merle. Daryl only sees himself like that when someone has pissed him off or if he’s in defensive mode but Shane has no off switch. 

It started off with Shane being the only one talking, or ranting, blaming Rick and Lori for all the mess that happened at the farm. That he was right about everything including the barn of walkers and the kid Randall. Daryl didn’t say anything during Shane’s rants at first and instead just let him get his anger out in words rather than fists. Daryl wasn’t scared of Shane – hell he’s encountered a lot more men scarier than him but despite his skills in fighting, he’s seen Shane fight when he’s angry and that was something he couldn’t afford. Not in these circumstances when they’ve got no protection and are out wandering the streets like open targets for walkers. 

“Oi, redneck I’m talkin’ to you!” and suddenly Shane is in his face with his eyes lighting up with the familiar fury. 

Daryl bites his lip. He tries to not lose his temper not now, but he’s sick of hearing Shane’s arrogant voice. “Yeah and I’m talkin’ to you. Maybe we’d find somewhere with food an’ water by now if it wasn’t for you and your pissy fits slowin’ us down every fuckin’ day!” 

“For me? Hah. I’m the one with the brains here halfwit. We’re gonna die out here if you don’t hurry up and use your spidey senses you always yap on about!” Shane gives him one last stare before he shakes his head and spits out a dark chuckle. “Can’t believe that out of everyone I got stuck with the hillbilly. I mean, fuck m-” 

Daryl pounces on him before he even has time to reign back his rage and he’s throwing a punch square into Shane’s face. Shane is quick and grips onto Daryl’s collar tackling him to the ground. Daryl hears the crack of his head smacking into the tarmac before the pain hits and a breathless groan escapes his lips. 

He doesn’t even fully the register the throbbing in his head before Shane unleashes his fist onto the side of his face. Punch after punch pounds into his face and he can taste metal in his mouth as blood from both himself and Shane’s fists spray onto his face. He can feel his brain rattle inside his skull and every gasp takes a stab to his lungs. The punches keep on coming. Shane stops for a slight moment and flexes his bloody knuckles. Daryl can only feel the thudding of his head but takes this pause as his chance and smashes his fist into Shane’s jaw. He scrambles himself up off the ground and charges toward Shane who is still staggering from his hit. Daryl drives him back onto the side of a truck and knees him in the stomach before jamming his forearm to Shane’s neck pinning him to the car door. 

They both stand there for a few seconds gasping for air, their bodies heaving heavily close to each other. Their eyes lock and Daryl spits blood over his left shoulder. “Don’t ever fucking call me that again, you got it?” He digs his arm harder into Shane’s neck. Shane utters out a low grunt but gives a quick nod. 

Daryl doesn’t let down his arm but continues “Good. Now listen here, you’re only still here livin’ and breathin’ cos of me. I’m the one huntin’ down food for us to eat. Not you – me. So fuckin’ shut up and get off my back all the goddamn time you hear me?” 

Daryl pushes his arm one more time before he paces a few steps back allowing Shane to reach out and rub his neck. They both don’t say anything but stare at each other from a distance while trying to catch their breath. Daryl keeps his hands into fists preparing for Shane to lunge at him, but he doesn’t. 

“Pretty impressive you were able to get up so fast after all those hits to your head.” Daryl blinks at Shane. Is he mocking him? Daryl might have got the upper hand in the end but he took the most blows. And it pissed him off. He was used to fighting with people especially being Merle’s brother but he usually would fare better than what happened here. Merle would laugh at him if he was here and say “You let a pig go all Rambo while you lay there working on your tan?” 

Shane was roughly the same height of him but he was a lot bigger and Shane’s punches had more weight and power in them than his. He also had police training while Daryl only learned how to fight from experience. The only reason he got up so fast after the blows to his head was because he quickly learned from an early age that for his own sake, he had to get to his feet as fast as possible. Staying on the ground underneath your opponent only left you vulnerable. It only depended on the circumstances if standing up was to fight or if it was to run.

Daryl ignores him and wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of hand before continuing forward down the empty road. Shane stares at him for a bit contemplating his options. He lets out an exhausted sigh and follows a few steps behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane being an asshole yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness! I had exams and I actually had this chapter finished when my computer did a random restart and I completely lost all my open documents (including a 3000 word essay but let's not get into that). I was kinda bummed out after that and wasn't really feeling it so it's taken me a long time to write this chapter! 
> 
> I'm not happy with this chapter especially my writing skills haha! My grammar is all over the place and I just am finding this pretty difficult to write haha. I still find some fun in it so i'm just gonna keep at it lol. I like creating the story in my head...writing it not so much! 
> 
> Bit of a filler chapter tbhhhhh OOP.

“I smell like shit. If shit got shat outta shit then shat back out again.” The overwhelming smell of guts and decay flooded their nostrils and with the blistering Atlanta sun burning down on them, the stench became more and more potent for the two men.

With his nose scrunched and the only clean part of his arm flung over his face in an attempt to block out the revolting smell, Shane follows behind Daryl who ignores the other’s complaining. Instead, Daryl is too focused on following the signs that are leading them further into the centre of the town.

They’re covered in walker blood and guts – a trick they learned off Rick all those weeks ago. Before Sophia went missing. Before Merle went missing. Daryl suggested they use this ‘technique’ in order to get through the rural town they’re headed and hopefully find some cars. So far they’ve had no luck. The only vehicles they found were empty on gas or beyond repair.

When Shane was told of his idea, he responded with a snort but in the end they both took turns smearing the insides of walkers on each other. They’d been walking for way too long in this heat and after all, desperate times certainly do call for desperate measures.

With blood dried into a murky brown crust covering their skin and clothes, they finally reached Gordon Street, the centre of this pretty little town that would have been bustling with families and tourists not even a year ago.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of walkers.” Shane hissed stopping in his tracks. Daryl nods at him and squints his eyes over at the swarm of walkers drifting across the street. They quickly hide behind a wall of a shop and crouch down.

Shane stares at Daryl and puts his hand on his shoulder. “Right, I’ll take the left side and distract the fuckers while you wait until there’s an opening. Then you see that car, you gonn’ go start that baby up and we get the hell outta here.” 

“Too much walkers for you to take alone.” Daryl peers around the corner. There’s about 20 of them, maybe even more. 

“We don’t have time to discuss this. It’s gonna be dark soon so just do it.” Shane takes the knife out of his carrier and gives Daryl a nod before he charges off leaving Daryl to sigh before sprinting the opposite way. 

Shane is busy stabbing the walkers and Daryl notes the small smile creeping up on the ex-cop’s face. The heat, exhaustion and dehydration must be getting to his brain Daryl muses. With the walkers being busy distracted by the yells and hollering of Shane, Daryl slips unnoticed to the abandoned car. With a forceful pull, Daryl manages to yank the car door open and jumps inside and gets busy hot-wiring. 

The knife spears through the last of the walkers’ skull with a grinding crunch. With a heavy pant, Shane watches as the peeling brittle body slumps to the ground. He looks over to Daryl whose head is buried underneath the dashboard and his legs sticking out of the door. He strolls over and kicks him gently on the leg.  
“You done yet? Dusk is just ‘round the corner, we need to hurry this shit up.”

Daryl mutters out from inside the car, “Yeah well when you got no tools it makes it a bit difficult okay?”

A huffed sigh escapes Shane’s lips and he leans on the car bonnet and rubs his hands over his face.  
“Not much of a criminal now, eh. This not what you and Merle spent your days before, no?”

“Wanna say that again?” Now Daryl pushes himself out of the car. He’s glaring at Shane who just stares back before resigning into a low chuckle. 

“Look man, don’t get into another hissy fit okay? Just keep at the motor. I’ll stand watch and save your ass if any walkers clock on that their next meals are just lounging about.” 

Daryl slams the car door behind him, “You think you can save my ass? Ha! Did it slip your mind that it was me who saved your sorry ass back at the farm? Wailing like a little bitch before I showed up! Hell, you’re the one dragging me down!”

Shane smirks at the white trash in front of him. The way his arms flail up when he’s angry and the way his chest puffs up like some damn turkey. Like some trained reaction. And Shane can’t help but provoke Daryl further.

“You know a lot about dragging people down don’t’cha Daryl? I mean that’s why even your own damn brother couldn’t wait to see the back of you. He would rather cut his own hand off than have to spend another day hauling around a worthless lump like you.”

“Shut the hell up, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!” Daryl spits through heavy pants but doesn’t move an inch.

“Back at the farm, everyone was scared of you. No one wanted to get too close to you cos’ they didn’t trust you. Sophia would even run behind her asshole of a father just to hide from you. Face it, all you’re ever gonna be is Merle’s little brother. A piece of gum on everyone’s shoe. ”

“Shut the hell up!” Daryl shouts pulling his crossbow over his shoulder and aims it straight at Shane’s face. 

“Woah, calm down partner. No need to stick that thing in my face.” Shane pulls his arms up in surrender. Shit, he got caught up in his anger and went too far. His anger isn’t even directed at Daryl, it’s been a pent-up rage bubbling inside of him for weeks now. What Lori did to him, and what Rick almost did to him - the two of them have probably forgotten about him by now.

“Nah, you see, I think there is a need. I could kill you right now. Wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit no more.” His crossbow is only a couple of metres from Shane’s face.

“Daryl, c’mon this ain’t you. Just put it down okay.” A bead of sweat drips down Shane’s temple and he doesn’t know if it’s from the heat or the fact his life lies in the hands of a pissed off Dixon. 

“Don’t think so, Shane.”

“Look, Daryl, I’m sorry but you gott-“ Daryl cuts him off as he releases his finger and the arrow pierces through the air straight past Shane’s face, missing it by mere millimetres before drilling itself deep into the eye of a walker stalking behind him.

“What the-“ But before Shane can thank Daryl, the archer is back inside the car and the grumble of the engine fills the air. 

“Take this one, I’ll find my own.” And with that Daryl stalks away leaving Shane dumbfounded yet he can't help but let out a sigh of relief .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clearly have lived a boring life and only found out what hot-wiring was the day I wrote this chapter! I didn't research it much (I just googled 'how to steal a car in movies') so have no idea if it's even possible to do it without having tools. 
> 
> Also a big thank you to anyone who kudos'd, commented and bookmarked the first chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am having twd withdrawals... I just want to see the next season already! October seems so far away :(  
> It's not explicit or anything but this chapter does have skinning of furry animals so just in case you ain't here for that then maybe skip this! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and again thank you for reading!

After hours of driving in their own separate vehicles, the men stop at the side of a slip road and decide to rest for the night. The night brings a bitter coldness into the air, the sky littered with blackened clouds threatening an upcoming shower of rain. In his truck, Shane blows warm air into his frozen hands to help the numbness. Sweat from earlier now sticks to his skin and causes him to shiver. He peers into the side mirror at Daryl sitting in his car. The guy looks a mess, Shane muses. The gleam of sweat on the hunter’s bulging biceps can even be seen from here. Shane can’t deny the guy’s got muscle. Without thinking, he strokes his jaw where Daryl punched him back when they had their fight. Was a good punch an’ all. 

The wind starts to pick up outside and the whistling gust blocks any kind of outside noise that could hint a walker was nearby. Knowing there wasn’t much else he could do, reluctantly Shane pushes the car door open and steps outside. He marches over to Daryl’s car window and taps it gently. He watches as Daryl gives him a glare before pulling down his window.

“We should probably stick to the one car tonight so we can take turns on watch.” 

Daryl thinks for a moment before he offers a quick nod and stretches over to open the passenger door. Shane throws himself down on the seat, stretches his legs over the dashboard and clicks his tongue. Daryl’s car was way more comfy than the shitty truck he was in. 

“Feels like I’m back on a stake-out. All I need is a few doughnuts and a coupla’ magazines to keep me going.”

Unsurprisingly Daryl ignores him. Shane remembers back when he would sit next to Rick and just wait for hours, even days until they got what they were looking for. He smiles fondly at the memories of Rick being typical Rick and not keeping his eyes off the street while Shane would flick through pages of endless tits. Occasionally he would persuade Rick to stop being a dutiful husband and show him the best sets. Honestly, stake-outs were pretty fun. 

The silence is long and excruciatingly awkward – for Shane that is. Shane volunteered to take first watch despite Daryl’s refutes but he can tell that Daryl is still wide awake in the back seat. The eerie quiet makes Shane uncomfortable and restless while he notices that Daryl hasn’t moved a muscle. The guy looks like he’s been frozen into a statue that can’t even breathe. 

He knows he went too far with what he said about Sophia. Thing is, Shane doesn’t know why he acts like such an asshole towards Daryl. The man just bugs him for some reason. The way he and Merle would go out on their own and get drunk without any regard to the others in the camp rubbed him the wrong way and from then on, he just couldn’t trust either of them. They were the types of men he would lock up on a daily basis before the turn. And despite everything, Shane still felt a duty to protect his country from scum like them. Thing is though, since the disappearance of Merle, everyone - even Shane, noticed how different Daryl became. 

The guy was still angry and unpredictable at times, and he certainly would keep himself to himself; but he no longer would avoid your eyes when you talked to him, or stay quiet in the important discussions like he did when Merle was the one mouthing off. Daryl didn’t say much but he would say his piece and leave it like that. Shane noticed how the group started warming to him at the farm and slowly Shane saw that even Rick would go to Daryl for his input. And it irked Shane, seeing his best friend and former partner go to a no-good redneck before coming to him.

Unable to bear the awkwardness for any longer, Shane decides to pipe up seeing as their both awake.

“So, how long since you learned to use that crossbow of yours?”

No response. But undeterred, Shane doesn’t give up.

“You learn that off your brother? Pretty neat weapon to have nowadays I guess.”

It’s quiet for a couple of beats before Daryl finally responds with a lazy “hmmph”. 

“You always been a hunter?”  
Shane waits a few seconds before he realises that the hunter has no intention to involve himself in this conversation. And with that, Shane finally relents. He keeps watch for a few hours before Daryl nudges him softly on the arm and they swap turns.

The next morning, Shane is woken up by a thud on his lap. Startled, he jumps up with his knife already thrusted above his head before his eyes even dart open. What stares back at him is Daryl’s smug looking face while holding a couple of squirrels in one of his hands. Shane just dumbly blinks at him. 

“Breakfast.” Daryl says simply and walks over to his already lit fire.

 

“When did you do all this?” Shane questioned. Surely he hadn’t been asleep that long. He checks his watch and it’s only 7 in the morning meaning the most sleep he got was three or four hours.

“Couldn’t sleep in that thing. Too small.” Daryl stated indifferently before he starts skinning one of the squirrels. Shane could only look on as Daryl ripped and sliced through the animal. Jesus, this guy is made for apocalypses. 

Shane stretches his arms before he heads over to Daryl to help skin the squirrels. Daryl throws over one of the animals and they get to work. They’re both working in a comfortable silence apart the rips and tears of their knives. 

Shane looks over at his companion and suddenly feels a rush of shame. After being such a dick to him, Daryl still went out and caught food for both of them. He scratches the back of neck before letting out an awkward cough.

“Look man, I’m sorry for bein’ an asshole to you last night. Hell, for the night before that and the night before that one.”

Daryl takes his eyes off the squirrel and with slight hesitance he looks up into Shane’s eyes wearily. “S’fine.”

Shane nods and raises the squirrel up, “And thanks for breakfast. How did’ya know squirrel s’my favorite?” 

Daryl allows a hint of a smile flash over his face and Shane could swear he saw his cheeks go slightly pink. The hunter gets up and wipes blood from his hands on his legs. “Need t’find some more firewood.” 

“Here, I’ll come help.” Shane follows suit and throws his half-skinned squirrel on the ground.

They walk a few steps before a gunshot rings in Shane’s ears. Before he can react, Daryl’s body slumps to ground and a chilling scream spears through the peaceful morning breeze.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a plan for this fic wooo! Whether or not it actually follows the plan is a different matter but hey, it's the thought that counts right?
> 
> I'll be probably using some characters (jesus, say what) and my own take of story lines from later seasons.

His knees drop to the floor before he can even process what was going on. The pain was intense. Like a wave erupting through every vein of his body. Instead of blood rushing through him it was acid ripping into his bones without mercy. His right hand grasps where the bullet pierced his arm, and he tries to reign the gurgling howl in his throat. 

Shane is in front of him in seconds with his rifle already hoisted towards the sound of the shot. Like a bird he pecks each direction aiming his gun ahead. With his gun raised and ready, Shane yells out but Daryl can’t concentrate on the words that leave his mouth. His brain feels like it’s drumming into his skull and the relentless beating floods into his eardrums. 

In the distance, two figures slowly appear from the cluster of trees ahead. Shane quickly glances behind him making sure he’s shielding Daryl. 

The men are only metres away and gradually noise starts creeping into Daryl’s ears. The two men are saying something.

“…-mean no harm. I’m sorry about your friend. Wasn’t supposed to go down like that.”

The man that’s speaking is a stubby-looking middle-aged man with a newly healed burn eroded into his left cheek. His face looks battered by time with a helping of alcohol, while his teeth are stained yellow. He’s carrying a hand gun while his taller and younger companion is holding a sniper. 

Shane shouts back, “Put down your weapons. Now!” He charges forward before the shorter man holds up his hands quickly. 

“W-W-Wait pal! Ok we’re putting ‘em down. No need to get nasty here, okay? Look, that’s right we’re putting them down – _slowly._ ” Once the guns are on the ground, the shorter – and chattier of the two men, keeps his hands up as a precaution.

“Look, we’re awfully sorry ‘bout your friend there. It was supposed to be a warning shot but y’see my pal here ain’t too good at aiming. Honestly, he’s probably a bit simple in the head.” He chuckles and looks expectantly at Shane as if awaiting for a laugh back. He’s met with a silent glare so the man hurriedly continues, “My name is Pete and this here is Gordon.”

Shane steadies his gun and pulls the hammer back with a loud click which causes Pete to take a loud gulp and with a shaky laugh he begins, “As I was saying, we ar-“

“Why did you shoot a warning shot?” Shane interrupts and Daryl notices the gritty vexation laced in his voice. 

Pete glances at his silent friend before looking back at Shane.

“You know how it is now, right? Can’t trust no one nowadays. Shame indeed it is. But we get it you guys seem cool. Just wanted to see how you got them squirrels of yours.”

“Well the guy you just shot hunted them.” Shane replies with his hands still tightly gripped around his gun.

Pete turns his attention to Daryl who is still crouching on the ground behind Shane. He plasters a lopsided grin on his face and nods over to him.

“Hi there buddy, sorry ‘bout your arm – our bad. Gordon apologise to the gentleman.”  
Gordon stares straight into Daryl’s eyes and offers his quiet apology. Both Shane and Daryl don’t buy it.

“Right well maybe it’s time you get on your way then fellas.” Shane brings their attention back to him. The way the men are looking at Daryl seems off. This whole situation doesn’t seem right.

“Sure thing. It’s just we haven’t ate in a good few days. We’re starving.” Pete gestures to Gordon, “And the kid is a growing boy! He needs some protein in him.”

Shane scoffs for a second before realising the guys are serious. “What you shoot him and then expect us to feed you? If you want to eat squirrel, hunt it yourself.”

Daryl interjects him, “Here, take this one. Then get out of here.” He reaches over with his free hand and grabs a squirrel before flinging it over to the feet of the two men.

Shane looks over at him in disbelief and shakes his head.

Pete smiles and looks to Daryl, “Thanks man. That’s real kind. Thing is, I don’t mean we want a squirrel.” He points his finger at him. “We want you to come with us. You see we got a camp of our own. You can stay with us if you like - got a medic back there that could stitch you up.” He motions to Daryl’s arm.

Daryl is about to answer before Shane chips in, “No. We’re good. Now, as I said, you should probably get back.”

Pete scratches the back of his head. “Hmm. Not ones for movin’ eh? Sure you don’t wanna get your arm fixed, pal? Can’t do much hunting with an injury like that. If you come with us, you’ll be up killing cute fluffy animals in no time.”

“No, he’s good.” Shane answers for him and Pete lets out a short sigh. 

“What, he your bitch or something?” He leers over at Daryl, “You ask for permission before you take a shit too?”

Daryl doesn’t even have to think about it before he grabs his crossbow from his back and charges towards Pete. The pain shooting through his arm isn’t a match for the pure rage that overcomes him. He was calm before this point, fighting through the pain and carefully taking in the situation while calmly planning ways to get out of it. But being called Shane’s bitch by a guy that wasn’t even related to him just caused all his anger to flare up. It hit a nerve that opened up memories that he always pushes to the back of his mind.

Shane knows as soon as the word ‘bitch’ left the guy’s mouth Daryl would react. He sees in the corner of his eye Daryl getting up off the ground and he quickly tries to cover him.

Daryl doesn’t even get to pull his crossbow up when he is stopped by a gun barrel aimed straight at his forehead, almost touching. Shane’s gaze is also met by Gordon’s gun. Daryl nervously bites his lip as an automatic reaction. Shit, they must’ve been holding more guns on their back.

Pete tuts and steps closer towards Daryl, now with the barrel of the gun pressed hard into his head. 

“Now now friends. Don’t get too hasty now. Gordon, this didn’t go to plan now did it?” Gordon smirks at his friend.

Pete continues, “We’re not bad guys I promise you. We just wanted to see if we could recruit a hunter. Always handy to have but I get it - your friend here doesn’t seem to want to let go of you. I understand.” He seizes the crossbow from Daryl and inspects it.

“But you see this is a very handy choice of weapon you got there. Quick, slick and you don’t gotta worry about the noise attracting other creepers.” He drops the crossbow behind him so both hands are holding the gun. He peers at both Shane and Daryl who are both staying put but listening.

“How about we have a deal, because we’re pals now. Have I said ‘pals’ too much? Sorry, I get attached easily. Anyway, let’s say we take your weapons, your rabbits and squirrels, oh and those cars you got there. Very nice. We take all of that and you get to live. Sounds good to me right?”

He offers his hand to Daryl with a wide grin. Daryl and Shane exchange a look and for the first time they understand each other. They both know what it means. 

Suddenly, Daryl pulls his knee up hard into Pete’s stomach and with his shoulder he bashes the gun out of Pete’s hand. At the same time, Shane has twisted Gordon’s hand upwards, while a shot rings out. With easy swift movements, Shane manages to grab the gun out the man’s hand and uses it to thump Gordon In the face. He wrestles him to the ground and takes the gun to the younger man’s temple and shoots him.

Daryl is also finding the fight one-sided with the shortness of the man giving him a further advantage. He’s used to fighting men taller and stronger than him. The movements are sloppy and predictable, and so Daryl quickly finds himself pinning Pete down with his gun pushed into his forehead. 

Pete starts to plead for his life. “Look man, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!” 

Daryl can’t even look into the man’s eyes. He knows what he has to do. But to kill a man is something he’s never done. There’s no going back from this.

Pete doesn’t stop from breath, “The plan was just to graze your arm so you’d come back with us. No one was supposed to die I promise you!”

Daryl breathes heavily as if oxygen will clear his head. He has to do this. _Pete is dangerous and a liar. Pete is dangerous and a liar. Pete is dangerous and a liar._

“Daryl, he’s dangerous. We can’t let him live.” Daryl looks up at Shane staring down at him. He is holding his rifle which is pointed at Pete in case the man fights back. Shane is looking at Daryl with an expression he’s never seen before. And Daryl feels his stomach twist and wrench. 

Daryl curses under his breath, and finally looks Pete in the eye. The man has stopped talking but his eyes are pleading and begging with him. How quickly a man can look like a lost young boy. Daryl knows that this image will never escape his memory and will haunt him for years to come. He closes his eyes.

“Sorry.” And as the word leaves his lips he clenches the trigger and for the first time Daryl can feel blood on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Gordon are modelled after Tony and Dave (I think that's their names lol). I actually was hoping to see more of their characters but like my fic they don't seem to live for very long haha.
> 
> Next chapter hopefully will have a shane/daryl moment but it won't be enjoyed by one of them lol.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane being a good friend.

They don’t speak. Wordlessly, Shane helps Daryl to his feet and half-carries him over to the car. Shane sits Daryl down before rummaging through the vehicle looking for some first aid. The weird thing is, Daryl doesn’t feel any pain. His arm no longer feels like it has burst into flames and instead everything feels numb. He silently watches Shane rip through the car, carelessly chucking away anything that isn’t going to help his arm. He watches as little beads of sweat linger on Shane’s forehead before trickling down to his furrowed brows. Daryl then takes notice of the man’s eyes. The deep dark eyes which usually appear self-assured and hard are now desperate and wild darting from side to side. He’s about to count how many times the eyes blink when suddenly they are staring back at him. 

“Hang in there, man. Just give me a minute.” Daryl catches the slight wavering undertone of Shane’s voice but nods anyway. He lifts off the piece of cloth Shane had given him to hold over the wound. He takes in his stained-red arm as more blood oozes of the bullet wound. Thankfully, Pete wasn’t lying when he said ‘grazed’. The bullet didn’t hit through any bone and only sliced through a small area of flesh. He would recover – the wound would require some disinfecting and bandaging though.

A couple of hours passed and Daryl couldn’t shake the numbness off. Shane had found a first-aid box under one of the car seats and cleaned up his arm. He had been talking to him for the past twenty minutes or so but Daryl didn’t catch one word. His voice just became a muffle lost in the loud silence filling his ears.

Shane had removed the bodies but Daryl didn’t know where to. Didn’t feel the need to ask either. Slowly, he opened up his palms and peered down at them. His eyes traced the creases mapped over his hands. The way they were just scattered randomly on his skin like a fallen deck of cards, marks that would remain there for the rest of his life. He followed a jagged crease that started just below his index finger which then creeped downwards, before a hand interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see Shane’s crouching over him, his face close to his, and again those same furrowed brows. 

“Daryl, you okay?” Shane retracted his hand but kept his face where it was. Daryl tried to get the words out his mouth but could only manage a strained mumble. How embarrassing. So instead he just offers Shane a nod. Shane stayed where he was for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and turning away. 

He didn’t go far as he made his way opposite Daryl, sitting on a lump of wood. Daryl watched as Shane did that rub of his head – the habit he noticed which only seemed to surface when Shane was agitated or unsure of something. The man’s leg started to shake up and down and Daryl realised today he saw a side to Shane he had never experienced before. Shane, who prided himself as the alpha of the group, the true man’s man who didn’t mind a little ruthless and merciless if they gave way to a good end, was now sitting in front of him looking powerless and vulnerable. 

“Daryl, we need to get out of here soon. Other pricks might have heard the shots, let alone the walkers.” Shane ran his hands over his jaw. “You think you can do that?” His eyes looked like they were almost pleading.

“Yeah, I can.” And just like that relief washed over Shane’s face like a heavy weight just had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“Good man! Okay, you need help getting to your feet?” 

“Shane, I got shot in the arm not my legs.” Shane still sits watching expectantly. Daryl sighs, “No, I don’t need your help.” 

Shane watches as Daryl gets up. “They said something about a camp. Maybe we could see if they were telling the truth.” 

Daryl gives Shane a pointed look. “You want me to track ‘em back to a camp?” Shane nods. “And what if there is a camp with people in it?”

Shane doesn’t answer and Daryl shakes his head furiously. “Fuck that man, there could be women and kids there!” 

“Wait hold on. No one is killing kids, Daryl. All I’m saying is we should check it out. Look around. Maybe they were bluffing about the medic, but maybe they weren’t about the camp. They looked reasonably clean right? So maybe they have a set-up and food, some medical supplies? Can’t just leave that nasty cut in one bandage.”

Daryl thinks it over for a minute. Shane’s right, the men were liars but they could still have a camp.  
“Okay fine, but stay behind me and don’t make too much noise.” 

Shane bites back a sarcastic response, and instead just smiles before gesturing Daryl to lead the way.

The crisp morning air blended smoothly with the rich earthy scent of mildew and the musky aroma of damp dark soil. Daryl breathes it in through his nostrils, closes his eyes and tries to recall the memories of his childhood, where he would run out into the forest alone. It was his very own escape from the grim reality he faced every day. He draws in another sniff. It smells like home.

They had been tracking for a while, when Shane speaks up as he trails behind Daryl. With a hushed and impatient voice Shane groans, “Hey, we almost there?” Daryl shushes him with a tired flick of his wrist. 

He searches for imprints on the soil, trampled on leaves and scratches on the bark of trees. Anything to suggest movement. He crouches down, brushes his hand over a tangled mass of undergrowth. Behind him, Shane mutters, “Don’t mind if I do. Would’a preferred if they were of the magical kind but beggars..”

Daryl’s hands drop and in a split second spins around, and without thinking lunges towards Shane, batting a mushroom out of the man’s fingers. He throws himself so hard that he finds himself sprawled over Shane’s body. Shane grabs Daryl’s t-shirt, clenches it in his fist and pulls him closer, before grabbing the fallen mushroom with his other hand. He closes it towards his chest, shielding it from Daryl.

“What the fuck? I was gon’ eat that you prick!” Daryl bites his lip but a sly grin slides over his face despite the uncomfortable closeness. He can feel Shane’s warm breath flutter over his skin. “Good thing you didn’t or you would be dead.”

The vexed glare momentarily vanishes from Shane’s face and is replaced by a fleeting puzzled expression. “What the hell ar-“

Daryl interrupts him and points to the mushroom, “Autumn Skullcap. If you ate that you’d be a dead man.” Shane’s mouth slips into a round ‘O’ shape before he suddenly releases Daryl and launches the mushroom into the air.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! That was too close for comfort. Shit.” Daryl can’t help but chuckles quietly as Shane frantically wipes his hands on his shirt then a nearby tree. When his hands are clean to his liking, Shane stops and stares open-mouthed at Daryl.

“Man, you’re something else. You’re like tarzan or some shit.” Daryl laughs as he shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.” And this time Shane allows a small smile fall across his face.  
His back straightens, his chest puffed out and looks Daryl straight in the eye “Thank you. You just saved my life.” He holds out his hand.

Daryl feels a blush creep across his cheeks. Jesus, all he did was stop him from eating a damn mushroom, but he takes Shane’s hand anyway and they shake.

“It’s nothin’. You were the one helping me out with this” He nods his head at his arm.  
“Guess we’re even then?”  
Shane smiles, a faint flicker of a smile in his eyes.

“Guess we’re even.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! 
> 
> This chapter was just to get a bit of a bro bond happening between the two haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shane being an asshole. Just a warning contains non-con kissing and brief mentions of underage drinking and past child abuse.
> 
> Thank you for reading an hope you enoy!

“Thank you Jesus!” 

Shane gives Daryl a cheerful slap on the shoulder as he bounds towards the door. Daryl stops, taking a moment and finds himself nervously biting his lip. His footsteps feel heavy as he hesitantly follows after Shane. After following the tracks left by Pete and Gordon they finally found themselves here.

A small grim abandoned shack plucked in the middle of nowhere. The stripped wooden walls flaking and splintered left the impression it hadn’t escaped the battering of the apocalypse either. The sagging strips of rotten wood hangs on desperately, before it too, succumbs to the new world. Inside, the floor creaks as they cautiously step in, guns raised. The stench of decay and mould assaults their nostrils first. Dust coated over depressed-looking furniture, mouldy dishes strewn over the floorboards. The broken windows are taped over by dirty old blankets, allowing thin strips of stale sunlight to pierce through the gaps, only bringing more attention to the swarm of dust particles storming around in turmoil as the rest of the house stands lifeless and desolate. 

Daryl opens up one of the cupboards. “Bingo.” He reaches for one of the many cans of food. He sifts through them. Tuna, Spam, Beans. Enough to last them a few weeks if they rationed it. He scans the rest of the kitchen and notices a bottle of whiskey. A few cans of ice cold beer would’ve done the job but hey, whiskey is still whiskey – still gets you smashed all the same.

~~~

“So two guns, food to last us ages and alcohol. Not bad considering the shitty start of the day, eh?” Shane snickers.

“And pain-killers.” Daryl adds as he leans back on to the crumbling wall behind him. They’re both sitting on the creaky dusty floor, huddled around a small fire Shane lit up in a waste-bin. The dark night settles around them and Shane gulps down whiskey then hands it over to Daryl. 

The sweet spice of the whiskey lingers on Daryl’s lips and he can’t help but run his tongue over them. It had been too long.  
The first time he drank whiskey, he was thirteen years old. His father was out of the house, god knows where and it was just him and Merle. His brother had lectured him that alcohol was only for men and not pansies called ‘Darlena”. Daryl persisted to his older brother that he was a man (and definitely not a pansy) and kept grabbing for the bottle. He would watch in fury as Merle would laugh at him in between swigs.  
He remembers Merle saying to him “Daryl, if I let you have a sip, promise me you ain’t gonna rely on it. No cryin’ and runnin’ back to this when Pa gives you a batterin’ or when things go tits up. You gotta learn to fight back, baby brother. I ain’t always gonna be there protectin’ ya.”  
As it turns out his brother was right, he only saw Merle a few times before he was taken to Juvie. At that age, Daryl believed and listened to every word Merle spoke like it was the gospel truth. From then on, he only drank whiskey when the pain was so unbearable it stopped him sleeping. The other times, he would soldier through the agony thinking back to what his big brother told him.

“How’s your arm?” Daryl looks up to see Shane looking at him intently. The flickering amber light from the flames allow little whispers of Shane’s sharp features to glow through the midnight veil. Daryl feels his breath hitch in his throat. Why the hell does he even care how Shane Walsh's stupid face looks like in the dark?

He takes another gulp of the whiskey and hands it back to Shane. He thought the whiskey would create a mental block between him and what happened earlier. It hadn’t. He had killed a man. He saw the life go out of his eyes when he pulled the trigger.  
He shudders, taking in a deep breath. “S’okay. I can bend it now which I couldn’t before so…” 

Shane nods, his face softening slightly. Another sip. 

“Scared me back there y’know? Thought you were dead when you went down.” Another sip. He scratches the back of his neck, eyes glazed and lost in thought.  


“Huh. Thought you’d be jumpin’ with joy.” Shane's head shoots up, his eyes hinting a touch of disbelief before quickly recovering to their usual icy glare. His lip curls into what looks like a sneer and Daryl watches as the man takes in a jagged breath. The walls suddenly appear smaller like they’re slowly closing in on him and Daryl can’t help but grip his knees as his palms start to sweat. His eyes anxiously dart towards the door.  


“Happy? Really, Dixon? Whaddya think of me?” Shane’s eyes narrow and his fingers grip harder around the bottle.  
A nervous laugh slips out of Daryl’s mouth, but he quickly bites his lip shut. _It’s just Shane._ “S’not like we’re best buddies out on a picnic. We got stuck with each other is all.” Shane’s eyes are glowering at him now. Daryl tries hard not to swallow and continues, “Red-neck? Piece of gum on everyone’s shoe? Those were your words, you said 'em remember?”

Shane breaks the eye-contact to look down at his hands flexing them open and closed, and takes in a deep breath. He tilts the whiskey bottle for another sip. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

He looks up at Daryl again who blinks at him. “I’m sorry.” Shane takes another swig before letting out a loud exaggerated sigh. “Lissen ta me, I didn’t like you at first I admit. Honestly, man you were an ass. But we saved each other’s lives today - that gotta count for something. Right?” He passes the bottle to Daryl again. It’s almost empty now. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess.” Daryl warily lets the cold rim of the bottle touch his lips, wincing as he gulps the liquid down. His head feels dizzy and light. He tries to concentrate on Shane but his eyes can’t quite focus on him. Fuck alcohol. He slides the bottle back in defeat. 

They’re silent for a while, both processing the forgotten feeling of tipsiness. Daryl feels uncomfortable, he’s used to drinking only in certain situations. Dealing with pain and anger after fights with his dad or when he’s lounging about with Merle, because it’s what Merle did. And he’s Merle’s brother after all. 

“Y’know, ya had t’do it.” Shane’s words cut through the quiet room. Shane eyes him, and Daryl feels a drop in his stomach because he knows what he’s talking about.

“Y’did. They were bad news. Was gonna be us or them.” Shane slurs before finishing the last of the whiskey and chucks the bottle behind him. The clattering of the glass is followed by a whistle. Daryl fights back a flinch. Slowly Daryl looks down at his hands. “And it was us” he mutters under his breath. His finger brushes over the path of the crease under his index finger. Suddenly he wishes he had the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“It was us.” Shane repeats as his head loll backwards. He lets out a loud belch and thumps his chest, “S’excuse me.”

Daryl scratches at a snatch of fabric on his jeans. He hears a snort and looks up to see Shane grinning at him. “What ya lookin’ at?” Daryl asks gruffly before continuing with his nail. Shane snorts again, and waves his arm about before throwing his head in his hands. His shoulders starts to bounce, and a chortle escapes his lips. 

“You. Daryl Dixon.” Shane recovers from his chuckles and leans closer to Daryl. He lazily points at Daryl before repeating, “You.” Daryl huffs and demands further explanation but Shane sleepily shrugs his shoulders so Daryl thinks he’s not going to say anything more on the subject. He’s about to let it go when Shane finally speaks up. 

“I ‘hink I was wrong about you s’all. Thought you ‘ere jusanotha Merle s’but you’re not” He slurs. You’re nuthin’ like ‘im. You’re a good guy, you know that? You might act like a pissed off woman now and then but you're...good.” 

“Am I ‘sposed to say thank you to that shit?” Daryl hits back as a small smile wobbles over his lips. He rests his head back on the wall, his fingers aimlessly drawing a circle on the cold hard floor. He sees Shane grin in the corner of his eye and looks up as Shane scoots himself closer. Shane brings his legs up and lets his arm hang over his knee. He shoots Daryl a lopsided smirk. A smirk which used to make Daryl want to punch him square in the nose, but now he can’t help but reluctantly smile back. And for some reason, he can’t quite figure out if it’s just the alcohol talking. 

“Y’know, Daryl. This could be it… Me and you. Who knows if we find others we can trust.” Shane shakes his head as if he can’t believe it himself. Daryl stops scratching the frayed fabric and turns to him. 

“S’that mean you trust me?” The words just slip out. He doesn’t know why but he wants to find out the answer. He wants someone to trust him. He wants Shane to trust him. No, for some reason he needs Shane to trust him and in response his heart skip a few beats. Daryl tries to focus on Shane’s eyes, looking to find an answer in them. Nope still hazy as fuck. Fuck alcohol. 

A few moments pass, before Shane twists his body to face Daryl completely. “I do.” He pats Daryl’s shoulder but lets his hand linger so Daryl squints up at him. Slowly it starts to trail over to Daryl’s neck. Daryl freezes, as fingers start to creep over his neck and the back of his head. His body stiffens, air rushing out of his lungs and his eyes are desperately searching for the door again.

Then Shane’s lips are hovering closely over his ear and the bitter smell of whiskey floods his nostrils. “ _I could fuck y’right now, Dixon._ ” Shane purrs as he swoops in, but a sudden a flush of adrenaline crashes through Daryl’s body and his palms hastily propel hard against Shane’s chest. Shane grips harder into the back of his neck and pulls him back. Daryl feels his skin crawl as Shane stamps a wet sloppy kiss on his lips and sweaty hands slither down his body. 

“Get the hell off! Daryl pushes back once more this time with twice the force. Shane stumbles back onto his elbows and Daryl takes this chance to land a kick to his face. He jumps on top of Shane and gives him one last solid punch before rolling himself off. He keeps his fists clenched tight but Shane doesn’t move a muscle. Daryl prods him with his foot but Shane doesn’t stir. His heart thumps frantically in his chest while he lets his head drop to his hands. Daryl waits until the wheezing stops battering the bones in his chest before dragging himself up, and crawls to the farthest corner of the room. He pushes the hair stuck to his face with sweat out of his eyes and tries to breathe not without muttering a few dozen ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’. _Fuck._ His hands tremble violently as he clamps his fingers over his knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was going so well..then lightweight Shane ruins it :(


	7. Chapter 7

Once the crisp light trickles into the room, and chirping of birds fill in the silent air, Daryl grudgingly pushes himself up on his feet. He didn’t sleep. Every time his eyes fell shut, the darkness jolted them back open. He needed to be ready and he needed to be on guard. His eyes fell on Shane, lying motionless on the ground. It takes everything to not just run out the shack, and back into the safety of the forest. But it’s just Shane. He’s not someone Daryl is afraid of. He won’t turn back - not now.

Hours passed and finally a groan is heard gurgling from Shane’s mouth. Panic shoots through Daryl’s body but it’s something he has become accustomed to over the years, so he remains alert and keeps his knife by his side. 

He watches as Shane slowly gains consciousness and sits up. Shane goes to rub his eyes but he winces and jerks back his hand. “What the hell…” He glances around the room until he sees Daryl in the corner.

“What the hell happened? Did you bust me in the eye?” As Shane says the words, realisation registers over his face. He gapes back at Daryl who appears to cower slightly in the corner, eyes wide and jerks back. “Fuck. Did I…?”

Daryl tries to speak, but no words come out his mouth. He just looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip as his face burns up. Shane tries to take a step closer but quickly retracts when Daryl backs up further into the corner. 

With a guilty expression on his face, Shane gulps. He says softly, as if speaking to an upset child, “Look, brother - I mean Daryl. I’m sorry for last night. I really am. When I get drunk I do stupid shit. I didn’t know what I was doing. Ah, fuck. Really I’m sorry – I wouldn’t have hurt you. I want you to know that.”

Shane draws his hands over his face. He can’t believe he got so drunk last night. He knows what happens when he drinks. He just didn’t think he’d get horny for a guy, not least Daryl Dixon.

Daryl looks like a little boy scared but putting up a big front of being brave. Guilt rips through Shane’s mind. He would feel better if Daryl just lunges at him and gives him a few punches so they can move swiftly on, but the man is quiet and even more withdrawn. 

They don’t speak much after, with Daryl abruptly leaving to go hunting. Shane knows the hunter just wants to get far away from him as possible. It’s probably for the best seeing as Shane finds it difficult to look in the man’s eyes without feeling a nagging lump in the back of his throat.  
He will give Daryl time to settle and hopefully feel comfortable in his presence again, so Shane decides not to run after the man.

He just doesn’t expect that the hunter would return hours later with some stranger in tow. Shane doesn’t even blink before his gun is aimed at the stranger’s head. He quickly glances Daryl up and down checking for any injuries, but is surprised when the hunter looks fine. He actually looks relaxed considering. 

“Daryl, you okay? You hurt?” The words spit out his mouth like rapid fire. He actually found himself pacing round the shack while he was waiting for Daryl to come back – if he came back. He cursed himself, as he tried to fit fragments of memory from last night together, getting a rough idea of what went down. They had been getting on, having a proper conversation for once. Then he had to fuck it all up by listening to his dick. Not his best move.

Daryl just grunts in response and gives him a cold icy stare. Shane turns his attention back to the man standing next to him. With his curly hair, green anorak and big beady eyes, Shane doesn’t exactly feel threatened. He looks the sort of guy Shane picked on high school, but this new world isn’t anything like the good old days of playing football and picking on nerds. Majority of people still alive at this point, no matter how harmless they look, aren’t to be trusted. Everyone has an agenda – it just so happens that some are exceptionally good at hiding it.

“So, who the hell are you?” He cocks his gun, and takes a step closer to the stranger. “What do you want from us, asshole?” He barks the words as he towers over the man. Fair play to the stranger, he doesn’t flinch or try to flee. He just stands there, patiently waiting for Shane to finish.

“My name is Aaron. I met your friend Daryl earlie-.” Shane cuts him off. “Tell me why you’re here! And don’t even think of fucking lyin’ or I promise you this bullet is goin’ straight through your brain.” He doesn’t like the fact that this guy knows Daryl’s name. How could Daryl be so careless?

Aaron gulps and steadily puts his hands up. “I mean no harm, I assure you. I was telling Daryl about the camp I come from. I recruit people to come back and live with us. I think you and Daryl would be welcome additions.”

“Let me think, you’re pals with two fucks called Pete and Gordon, right? You honestly think I’m gonna believe anything that comes out your mouth?” Shane can’t help but laugh. 

Aaron looks at Daryl quickly. “Your friend told me about that. It had nothing to do with us I promise. I can promise, however, that Daryl’s arm can get stitched up by our surgeon back at our community.”

“Can you now? Seriously Daryl, what the hell are you doing with this son of a bitch? You don’t actually believe him do you?” Daryl avoids Shane’s stare, and instead bites his nails. “I do.” He says quietly.

Shane’s about to argue back, but Daryl cuts him off and speaks with his voice louder now, “He does have a camp. He’s got pictures to prove it. I trust him.” Daryl’s stares back at Shane now, his blue eyes piercing through him as he says the words.

Shane doesn’t agree, and he doesn’t believe this Aaron guy. He wants to pull the trigger and shoot the bastard in the head. Better safe than sorry as he always says. But for some reason he finds himself lowering the gun and muttering a resigned “Fine”. 

He’ll go with what Daryl wants for now. The very fact that Daryl actually came back for him, meant there was a glimmer of a second chance. A chance for him to mend the gap between them and hopefully be forgiven. And he can’t fuck it up twice. So he’ll wait and go to this ‘camp’ to keep Daryl happy, but he will not let his guard down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a rushed chapter! I'm rewatching TWD and I really like Aaron! He just seems so lovely :)
> 
> next stop: Alexandriaaaaa
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super late update. I've tried (and failed) to get on top of University work, but it's my final year and i'm being drowned with essays and tests :( 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!
> 
> P.S My brain is frazzled so apologies in advance for typos, grammar mistakes, and in general shitty writing haha!

“Here it is. Welcome to Alexandria.”

Rust-stained iron gates disrupt the taintless blue sky. A screen of shade casts down onto their faces giving sweet relief from the blistering afternoon sun. Daryl points a quick glance over his shoulder and meets Shane's unwavering stare. It’s the same look they gave each other when Pete and Gordon approached them. A look of understanding. They knew what to do.

They didn’t speak much throughout the journey here. Instead, Aaron seemed happy enough to natter about stories of his community, their ideals and their goals. Daryl stopped listening after a while and instead kept his eyes trained on the surrounding forest. There was a chance this was a trap, so he needed to remain vigilant. He noticed that Shane was doing the exact same. 

Shane was, as always, lingering behind them both, hands firmly holding his rifle to his chest, eyes relentlessly scanning the area. It was as if he still held his officer badge, displayed proudly over his chest, blinking in tune with the sun. Every little snap of branches made the man jerk into attention, fingers ready to pull the trigger. For the most part, Shane kept quiet. He did ask Aaron a few questions about Alexandria to which Aaron was all too happy to comply. However, this didn’t appear to ease any doubts, and for the rest of the journey Shane stayed alert.

It surprised Daryl to find he actually believed what this guy Aaron was saying. There was a kind of pulling sensation in his gut – telling him the guy was to be trusted– that he was good. Thing is, when all your life you’ve been surrounded by lowlife assholes, it’s quite easy to spot a good guy in the mix -they end up sticking out like a sore thumb. So for the first time in a long time, without the influence of Merle or anyone else, he would trust his gut. 

“So, as always with new members, Deanna will take you to her office and ask a few questions. Nothing big.” Aaron reassures with a friendly smile. “She just wants to find out more about you, what you’re good at. You can take this time to ask her any questions or voice any concerns. The thing about Alexandria, it’s all about transparency here.”

Aaron’s hands gently pat Daryl’s shoulders, offering the man a quick smile, before the towering iron barriers begin to pull open. Immediately, in instinct, fingers hover over the crossbow slung over his shoulders and Daryl once again catches the dark brown eyes peering under the furrowed brows of his friend. They knew what they had to do. If it comes to it.

Daryl holds his breath. The iron gates rattle and grind against the radiating tarmac, like red velvet curtains at the theatre, slowly opening up to reveal the stage. He bites his lip and prepares for the worst. A part of him expects to be faced with an army of men bearing rifles and machine guns, bullets roaring past his ears, walkers foaming at the mouth trudging their way to him. Instead, a smooth unmarked road winds its way up to lavish white-painted houses neatly dotted side by side. Each garden is propped with little orange pots of bright tulips bobbing side-to-side in the warm dry breeze.   
His eyes dart up towards a high wooden watchtower, searching for a sniper, then quickly back to Aaron, who gestures for him to follow. With a deep breath, his feet start to move but halts when an hand grips his shoulder. Behind him, panic flashes in Shane’s eyes. “You sure ‘bout this?”

“Yup” Daryl quips despite himself, and there is a coldness to his voice that is unexpected. He shrugs Shane’s hand off him, and quickly follows behind Aaron. He thinks Shane has turned to leave but a few moments later the familiar clicking of boots echo softly behind him. 

~~

“Really.” It’s a statement, not a question that leaves Shane’s smirking mouth. Deanna nods firmly with a determined smile. Holding the bridge of his nose Shane lets out a hybrid of a sigh and a laugh. 

In this occasion, Daryl finds himself actually agreeing with Shane.

Shane’s stern eyes meet hers dead on. “Look, lady. I don’t know if you know this, so I’ll keep it real simple, okay?” He leans forward on the couch, his fingers tightening into a clasp. “You’re living in cuckoo land. You’ve been fenced in here for way too long. If you had any wits about you, you would know now’s not the best time to play dress-up.”

Deanna sits on her swanky leather couch propped with mustard-coloured blankets and ugly knitted cushions perched carefully on each side. The room, which the lady calls her ‘office’ is like a set from a shitty day-time sitcom. Modern up-to-date appliances and furnishes are set neatly on glass shelves and recently polished wooden coffee tables. It’s as if the world never ended, and Alexandria has been left untouched, no – unburdened by it all. 

Her porcelain hands sit gently but firmly on her lap. “You’re wrong Shane.” She gestures around the room. “This is what we built. We, as a community, have built security. It’s not just the walls keeping us safe – it’s the people. It’s the spirit that’s keeping us alive. If that spirit dies – we all perish. It’s time for us to grow again, don’t you think?” Her gaze lands on Daryl.

Truthfully, he thinks she’s full of shit. The world ain’t ever gonna be the same. He’ll be way long dead before the world gets back on its feet, and even then it’ll still be shit.

So Daryl doesn’t say anything, just shrugs his shoulders and keeps his eyes on the floor. 

~~

“Can’t believe a place like this hasn’t been fucked over by now.” 

Shane is busying himself in the kitchen, bustling through pots and pans in one of the cupboards fitted under the sink. Decked with glossy Mahogany wooden floors, creamy marble worktops and expensive cooking appliances, Daryl can’t help but feel uncomfortable. He’s used to a cigarette stained table, a fridge half the size holding only beer bottles and left over McDonald's, and a broken oven used only as storage for Merle's stash. The rest of the house wasn’t much better, built for a preppy white middle class family, the type that would go to Disneyland every year or go camping every other weekend for a break from their tough weekday grind. The drawn silky beige curtains act as a shield from the watchful moon-lit neighbourhood, and a small lamp in the corner up oozes a yellow glow to the room. Deanne explained that the neighbourhood was powered by solar panels and other eco-friendly power sources.

As uncomfortable as he was, this was the best thing that could have happened to them. The place seemed legit even if their inhabitants were slightly batshit crazy. After a lot of debate, Daryl finally convinced Shane to stay as well – even for a little while. Deanna had proposed that Shane become the new town police officer since everyone seemed to have a role in this community. After their talk, Aaron led them to their very own house. He explained that in order to maximise space in Alexandra, Shane and Daryl were to be roommates. 

~~

“What the hell am I going to do? Slap the cuffs on litter bugs? Arrest kids who don’t keep off the grass? Fuck me.” Shane’s loud voice echoes through the house. 

In the living room, Daryl runs his fingers through his damp washed hair then continues wiping a cloth over his crossbow. It hadn’t really occurred to him when he first got here he’d be stuck under the same roof as Shane. Every time the man’s annoying face pops up from behind the door, he can’t tell if he wants to punch Shane in the nose or grab his face and - no, never mind. Right now, though, with Shane not stopping for breath in between his word vomits Daryl thinks it would probably be the former. Somehow, he’s managed to remain calm and collected, only resorting to giving himself a bloody lip in frustration as more words spew out of Shane’s mouth. 

“Here ya go buddy.” Shane chimes from behind as he places the plate of pasta in front of Daryl on the glass coffee table. 

Shane jumps down beside him, placing his own plate down. In two short movements, he scoops up some of the pasta and grovels it into his mouth. “Ok, now listen, plan is the usual.” Chunks of food fly out of his mouth but he continues, “Okay? So I take watch first then we switch. That good with you?”

“S’good.” Daryl nods, picking up his fork. A sweat starts to prickle down the back of his neck, and silently he curses himself when his eyes end up searching for the nearest door. Man up, it’s just Shane. He was drunk. Shane’s not like that. 

“Daryl, seriously, please listen to me.” 

“What?” Daryl frowns, his gaze finally dropping from the door. He rolls his eyes over to Shane. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but, I want to say it again.” Shane clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened last night. It shouldn’t have happened and it was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“So yer sorry?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Like really sorry?”

“God damnnit Dixon...” Shane shakes his head and his lips hint a thankful smile. “Yes. I’m really really really sorry, Daryl.”

“You” Daryl leans back on the squeaky leather sofa, relaxing slightly, his arms stretching behind his head. He glimpses to Shane, whose eyes are set with remorse. “- can’t handle yer drink.” 

And that’s all it was – alcohol. Anyway, now was not the time to turn their backs on each other. It was them against this town until they could trust the people of Alexandria.

“Ha. You’re right there, brother.” Shane winks as he takes deliberately slow sip from his glass of water.

He continues, “Nah, man. I need some action. Actually, had a little look ‘round the place” Shane smirks. “I have my eye on someone.”

Daryl’s eyebrows lift up, “Really? Already? You don’ waste time.” The guy was quick, Daryl has to admit. They had only been there half a day.

Daryl watches the muscles on Shane’s arm flex while his hand rubs them proudly. “What can I say? As the one layin’ down the law here, I hereby insist it be illegal for any horny man to not get laid.”

Shane’s cackle rings in his ears as Daryl shakes his head. “’Yer a fuckin’ moron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I don't think it's Daryl Shane has an eye for sadly... :( 
> 
> Anyway hope you liked and thanks for reading and all the kudos + comments. I really appreciate it! I'll try get the next chapter out earlier this time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about my lateness! :( This chapter was a bitch to write. Still not happy with it but whatevvaa. No Shane in this chapter but he will return for the next one!
> 
> Please be aware there are: **References to Domestic Abuse** in this chapter. Daryl meets Pete.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Daryl sits at the foot of the bed in the makeshift hospital room. A sigh escapes his lips as his eyes scan around him. It’s really just the living room of one of the fancy houses in Alexandria. Same polished wooden floors, white blinds, beige walls covered by dozens of medical posters, a cream rug fit right into the middle of the room. The kind of room he’d see in those fancy glossy brochures as a kid browsing through the magazine rack at the local pharmacy as Merle or his dad would try to flatter the girl behind the counter with their recycled one-liners. They always came back with a bag of whatever they were out to get, a Dixon smirk plastered on their faces. 

The nauseating smell of antiseptic reminds him of the days he would spend sitting on the bed in the nurse’s room at school. The nurse, Mary - Daryl thinks her name was, would give him the same sympathetic smile and pat the bed for him to jump up. He would get into a lot of fights at school, being a Dixon and all, but even though he was always the smaller and skinnier kid he would always come out as champion. Sometimes being a Dixon had its perks. After returning back to class after a fight, teachers would send him there and he’d lounge there for hours while old Mary pottered to cuts and bruises, old and new, tutting all the while. 

His foot taps the floor in a half-hearted rhythm. He’s been sitting here for nearly ten minutes and considers getting up to leave, but the door swings open and crashes into the door stop.

A tall beefy man steps in and utters slightly out of breath, ‘Dixon, right? Name’s Pete.’ The tall man hasn’t even looked at him yet, preoccupied with the book in his hand. He’s as broad as he is tall. But Daryl knows a weak man when he sees one – unmarked and unbruised from what’s happening outside the walls. Clumps of hair strands stick to the top of the man’s forehead while his skin glistens as sweat oozes from his pores. 

Daryl doesn’t reply, but Pete doesn’t seem to notice or care, as he strides over to the large glass desk directly opposite, tossing the book onto another pile of books. And just like that Daryl can tell this guy is a dick - the cocky way the guy walks, talks and looks, like he owns the place. But unlike his own Dad and brother who had the stories and the traits to back up the way they acted, Daryl can see through this one. Standing in front of him is just white-collar dork acting like a big-shot since the world ended. 

‘Aaron here, was tellin’ me about your gun-shot wound. Why didn’t you come get checked out the day you got here. It could be infected by now.’ The man nods over to Aaron, who Daryl hadn’t even seen follow Pete in.

Aaron looks thoughtful, ‘Yeah, well hopefully it’s just a job of cleaning up the wound, right? Daryl said it was just a graze.’

Pete leans back on his desk, flicking his chin up and looks at Daryl for the first time, like he’s waiting for an answer from Daryl, who simply offers a shrug.

Pete breaks out into a goofy smile, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Man of few words I see.’ His smile falters slightly. ‘Unlike that friend of yours.’

‘What’s that suppos’d to mean?’ Daryl straightens up.

‘It means what’s it’s supposed to mean.’ He leans off the desk, eyes still watching over Daryl, and then motions over to Aaron. ‘That’s fine Aaron, I’ll see to Daryl for now.’

‘You sure? I could-‘

‘I said, that’s fine. You can go now. Thank you.’

Aaron looks hesitant but with a final glance at Daryl, hurriedly leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him.

‘So, Daryl Dixon,’ Daryl really hates the fake smile plastered on the man’s podgy face. ‘Your arm, does it hurt?’

“No.”

“Hmm.’ Pete raises his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced. ‘So, how’d it happen?” 

‘Got shot.’

Pete lets out a hollow laugh. ‘Now, why should I trust you? Why should I take the time out of my day to treat your wound after you and your friend come waltzing in here, acting like Kings when we don’t know shit about you. And to top it off you say you’ve been shot but won’t tell us how. See, I’m not sure I can trust you Daryl.’

Daryl struggles not to roll his eyes at this stuck-up asshole. He doesn’t even want to be here but Aaron had made him promise he would go - wouldn’t stop nagging him until he agreed. Daryl stares flatly at Pete. ‘That’s yer problem.’ 

Pete comes closer, his shoes clicking on the wooden floor until their eyes met at level. ‘Careful, Daryl.’ Daryl’s gaze doesn’t waver but his knuckles start to tighten and he feels his jaw lock. He manages to keep his cool though and Pete finally moves back slightly before he throws his hands into the air. ‘Here, that reminds me Daryl! We missed you at the welcome party Deanne organised for you last night.’

‘I don’t do parties.’ Daryl scoffs. 

He never did. Even when he was younger, he’d be that guy in the corner smoking weed, watching but never joining in. Ever since his mother died when he was just a kid, he found himself drawing back from others and keeping his distance.

He grew further and further apart from his friends until he had no friends at all – well, apart from Merle. His brother would drag him to parties, tell him he needed to stop being such a hermit, and leave Daryl stranded while he would hook up with girls upstairs. He hated parties, but both he and Merle knew that it got them both out of the house. And that was a comfort in itself.

Daryl’s eyes follow Pete as the man casually strolls over to the desk again. ‘Figures. Interesting how different you are to...Shane. Wanna tell me about him?’

Daryl stands up. He’s bored of this. ‘Look are you gonna fix my arm up or what? I got better things to do.’

At this moment, the door slams open and a young girl with strawberry blonde hair tied up in a loose messy ponytail stumbles in. She’s wearing a crinkled yellow blouse with a pair of coffee-stained jeans. Her glasses are hanging at the tip of her nose but she pushes them up with the back of her palm. 

She sucks in a large breath, ‘Pete, I’m so sorry, I know I’m late, it’s just Edith on sixty-four, you know the nice old lady with the back problems? She asked me if I could help her with her shoes - so I did. And, well, she said she reminded me of her grand-daughter…And I think she ended up believing I was her grand-daughter because she kept calling me Annie. Then she started singing to me her favourite song and I couldn’t interrupt her! I should’ve told her I had to go but I just couldn’t, I’m sorry! She just seemed so happy and-‘

‘I get it, Denise, it’s okay. I get it.’ Pete mouth tightens into a thin smile. He continues, ‘and well now that you’re here, you can help stitch up Daryl here.’ He looks over at Daryl. ‘I would do it, but I’m not sure it’s wise for me to deal with a patient that could possibly have fleas. No offence. Hygiene and all that. You understand, Daryl.’ 

Denise’s eyes widen and looks helplessly at Pete then to Daryl, who she hadn’t even noticed before. She offers a nervous smile and throws up her hand into a small wave at him. She meekly turns back to Pete.

‘Are you sure Pete? You said that I’m not ready yet – that I should stick to theory?’ She frantically pushes strands of her hair away from her face.

‘I’m sure Denise you’ll be fine. It’s not a big job – even you can handle it.’

Denise nods and she takes a large gulp then disappears into the other room. Daryl watches as Pete starts to move before stopping in front of the door, his hand hovering over the door handle. 

‘Oh, almost forgot.’

He glances back at Daryl, and Daryl snaps his head up, forcing his gaze from the man’s lingering hand.

‘Daryl, if I ever see that friend of yours talking to my wife again.’ Pete’s face twists into a sinister sweet smile. ‘I will cut out his tongue before I kill you both.’

And then the door shuts and he vanishes just like that. Daryl sits there and just blinks for a few seconds. 

Denise rushes back into the room holding a roll of bandages and scissors. She’s already spluttering away before Daryl can even acknowledge her presence. ‘Daryl, sorry I didn’t see you when I got in. I should’ve introduced myself but I was in such a rush and I didn’t even see you and-.’ She stops and just stares at Daryl wearing a hopeful expression pleading with her eyes.

‘It’s fine.’ He says and watches as Denise relaxes slumping down onto the chair over at the desk. Her head falls onto her hands.

‘Was quite the entrance.’ Daryl remarks. He surprises himself when he even offers the girl a smile. She smiles back, before quickly rolling herself on the chair over to Daryl and getting to work on his arm. 

It surprises Daryl that they both actually have a normal conversation talking about normal things. She talks about her life before, how she found Alexandria and how she became Pete’s assistant. He eventually opens up and reveals how he and Shane were left together and how they ended up here in Alexandria. He doesn’t mention the farm or Rick and the group, deciding it’s best to keep quiet in case these people weren’t to be trusted. 

She finishes up bandaging his arm. ‘All done.’ She pats his shoulder and starts rolling up the spare bandage. ‘And sorry about Pete he just gets a bit…’ She scratches the back of her head as she hesitates.

‘Dickish?’ Daryl finishes for her. Denise sighs and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘You could say that. He gets wound up a lot. He just needs time to cool off.’

Daryl stares up at her. ‘Yeah? An’ how does he “cool off”?’ 

Denise shrugs. ‘Not sure. Maybe needs time by himself, get his anger out?’

Daryl shakes his head. Surely she knows. He wipes his hand on the cotton bed sheet, his fingers start to curl around them tighter. ‘I’m sure he does. But I get the feelin’ it ain’t the wall that’s gettin’ it.’ 

Denise’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t lie Denise. You know. You’ve seen the way he acts, treats you like shit, makes you feel stupid as fuck. You’ve seen how short his fuse is. And don’t tell me you ain’t seen the cuts on ‘is knuckles – you’re the doctor.’ 

When Denise looks down at her shoes, it just acts as a confirmation and Daryl can’t help but spit on the floor.

Daryl speaks up again, this time through his gritted teeth. ‘Same old shit right? Guess yesterday he didn’t take too kindly his wife talkin’ to other men. Maybe tomorrow will be forgetting to water the plants.’ He shakes his head. ‘Everyone knows?’

A small tear runs down Denise’s hidden face. 

Daryl stands up and walks over to her so they are facing each other.

‘He ain’t gettin’ away with it no more.’

Denise furiously wipes the tears off her face and looks up at him. A glint of determination in her eye.

‘Let me help.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not the most exciting chapter but I struggled to cut it down so had to make it it's own chapter! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic of The Walking Dead! It's such a fun show and obviously i'm interested in the angsty character/man/god that is Daryl.


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